You ever buy yourself something at thirty that makes your inner eight-year-old want to do cartwheels? There’s a particular ache that comes from being told "no" for so long, you kind of forget you wanted something at all.
But then adulthood hits, and suddenly—money or not—you start tracking down every weird, forbidden, off-limits thing you craved as a kid.
Here’s the raw truth: getting your own ice cream cake or buying the glitter lamp your mom swore would short-circuit the house isn’t about the thing, not really. It’s about finally saying yes to yourself. So let’s get honest. Here’s what people bought the second they could—and why it’s more than just a shopping spree.
1. Ice Cream Cake
My parents always called it “too extravagant.” I watched other kids blow out candles on a swirl of fudge and cake and wanted to smash my face into it, just once. The first time I walked out of the grocery store with one in my hands, no special occasion, just Tuesday—I felt like a rebel.
It tasted colder than I remembered, sweeter. It wasn’t about the cake. It was about being allowed to celebrate, even if nobody else got it.
Sometimes you buy yourself a slice just to prove you can. And every time, it’s a little flip to the rules that made childhood feel so small.
2. Fiber Optic Flower Lamp
There’s magic in fake flowers that light up, trust me. My mom decided they were too delicate, too easy to break, so she put hers away where I couldn’t touch it. I used to sneak peeks when she wasn’t looking, just to see the room bloom into rainbow sparkles.
Fast-forward: now I have three. I turn them on whenever the world feels dull, and it’s like I’ve built a portal back to the wild dreams I had as a kid. Grown-up me sits in the glow and wonders, why did anyone ever think I couldn’t handle a little electricity?
It’s weird how one silly lamp can mean freedom, but there it is—shining, unapologetic, in my grown-up room.
3. Braces (Orthodontics)
Who gets braces at thirty? I did. As a kid, my teeth were a mess, and my parents said we couldn’t afford “vanity.” It followed me everywhere—school pictures, job interviews, even first dates.
Handing over my credit card for adult braces felt both embarrassing and oddly triumphant. Every appointment was a little victory against every time I was told to just “smile with your lips.”
No, it’s not just about straight teeth. It’s about refusing to shrink yourself to fit someone else’s idea of “enough.” And that smile? It’s proud, metal and all.
4. Electric Guitar
My best friend growing up loved to crank up music in her childhood bedroom, She always had air guitar in her hands. The first guitar she bought sat in the corner of our dorm room for a week—like she needed permission she never got.
Eventually, she plugged it in and let it rip. Badly. Terribly. But we didn’t care. The first time she played a chord, we both grinned like we’d just gotten away with something huge.
Turns out, you don’t need to be good to feel free. Sometimes you just need to make noise nobody else can stop.
5. Restaurant Desserts
My mom always said, “We have sweets at home.” But home never had molten chocolate cakes or those fancy sundaes with sparklers. When I finally ordered dessert at a restaurant, I half-expected someone to yank the spoon away.
That first bite? Pure, forbidden joy. There’s something about eating dessert in public that feels like you finally made it.
No, it’s not about the sugar. It’s about sitting at the table and knowing you’re allowed to want more than just what you need.
6. 64-Count Crayola Crayons
You know the box, right? The one with rows and rows of colors and that little sharpener built in? Every art project at school, I’d watch kids flip open their big box while I made do with six sad stubs.
First paycheck, I bought the big one. I didn’t even care that I wasn’t coloring with kids—those crayons were for me.
There’s a particular kind of healing in lining up every shade and thinking, “No one can say no now.” Even if all you do is draw hearts in the margins.
7. Fast Food Freedom
We weren’t a fast food family. Grease, salt, and paper crowns were a no-go. In high school, I’d lie about why I couldn’t join friends for burgers after practice.
The first time I pulled into a drive-thru as an adult, I felt like I was sneaking out. Fries never tasted so much like victory—hot and a little dangerous.
Do I eat fast food all the time? No. But the freedom to say yes, even just once, makes every bite taste like rebellion.
8. Bold Red Lipstick
My mom called it “too grown-up.” Red lips belonged to movie stars and troublemakers, not daughters. Secretly, I practiced with strawberry ChapStick and dreamed of the real deal.
The day I bought my first tube, I wore it everywhere—grocery store, work, even taking out the trash. Suddenly, my mouth felt like a statement no one could ignore.
Lipstick hasn’t solved my problems (and to be honest, I discovered that red is not my color), but it did remind me: I own my face. No one else gets to decide what it says.
9. American Girl Doll
Other girls had them. I watched catalogs like they were maps to another life. My parents said dolls cost too much and did nothing but collect dust.
Years later, I splurged. For my brother’s kid, but in a way, for me. Watching my niece unbox that doll, with all her tiny shoes and stories, felt like paying respects to the girl I left behind.
Turns out, some toys are less about play and more about healing. I found a way to give myself what I wished someone else had.
10. Roller Skates
My friend’s parents thought that roller skates were “too risky.” She’d watch as me and other kids zipped down the street, knees scabbed, laughing.
Years later, I bought her her own pair. She wobbled, fell, and we laughed harder than we had in ages. Every bruise was a little badge of honor.
It isn’t about being graceful. It’s about leaving fear behind and letting your body remember what freedom feels like. That was the best gift I could get for her.
11. LEGO Sets
LEGO was for birthdays—but never mine. I spent years building castles in my head instead of in my hands.
So, I bought one. Then two. The satisfaction of snapping that last piece is hard to explain unless you’ve spent years wanting.
Now, my shelves are filled with the worlds I was never allowed to make as a kid. Every build feels like rewriting history, one tiny brick at a time.
12. Game Console
My parents called video games a waste of time. I called them escape routes. I grew up watching friends mash buttons while I pretended not to care.
The first time I played at home, I lost—badly. But the thrill of holding a controller that was finally mine? Unmatched.
Now, I invite friends over and we play for hours. Winning isn’t even the point. It’s about catching up with the kid I used to be.
13. Fancy Sneakers
Back then, “fancy shoes” meant whatever was on sale. I watched classmates flex fresh white kicks while I tried to keep my off-brand sneakers clean enough to pass.
First paycheck, I bought the shoes I’d circled in catalogs for years. Lacing them up, I felt taller—even if nothing else in my life had changed.
There’s a quiet kind of pride in walking down the street and knowing you finally said yes to yourself. Every scuff tells a story I actually wanted to live.
14. Personal Library
Library fines were my childhood nemesis. If I lost a book, it was a crisis. If I wanted my own copy? Out of the question.
Now, I buy books without guilt. I line my shelves with stories I’ve loved, and some I haven’t even cracked open yet. It makes my space feel like mine in a way nothing else could.
It’s not about showing off. It’s about knowing I’ll never have to give these stories back. They’re mine to keep, just like every chapter I lived through to get here.
15. Personalized Birthday Parties
Birthday parties used to be for other kids—the ones with themes and goody bags. My birthdays were quiet and practical. I told myself I didn’t care, but the truth is, I did.
So, I threw myself a party. Balloons, cake, the whole thing. It felt weird at first—selfish, almost. But then everyone started laughing, and it clicked: celebration isn’t about what you get; it’s about letting yourself matter.
Sometimes, you have to be the one to light your own candles. The wish is just a bonus.